Someone's at the Door
by AgentAva
Summary: But who is it? Will Tony and Ziva get there in time to save their son from whoever's waiting on their doorstep? Rated T for a few swear words.
1. Chapter 1

Not much to say here. But here's some of the stuff you might want to know for this fic: Teemo is Ziva and Tony's son. He's twelve. Oh, and they're married. Let's go Tiva! Enjoy my little muffins :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS nor its respectable characters.

* * *

_Here we go_, Tony thought with a roll of his eyes as the elevator doors opened and let him and Ziva off at their floor. He gripped the strap of his backpack with one hand and was leading the small of her back towards the desks with the other.

"All I am saying is that I don't think it is fair that we just leave him at home every day while we go off and work." Ziva was saying as she was being pushed kindly towards her desk. She dropped her own bag on the floor and went instantly to Tony's desk. The ex-Mossad leaned onto the table, her arms straight and elbows pointed out, a stern look set over her brow. "I wonder how lonely he gets without us there…" the mother's voice trailed off.

Tony dropped down into his chair and pulled his legs onto the desk, the tips of his sneakers barely touching her forearm. "He's got the Larsons next door, and he said that Patrick's coming over in the afternoon. Teemo's not lonely!"

McGee, who had been watching the couple over his desktop with a certain curiosity raised his eyebrows and commented, "Even so, he must be pretty lonely, Tony."

The senior field agent paused to look over at the tech-geek. He raised an eyebrow and shot back lazily, "What do you know, Timmy? You're not even dating."

The other man purpled, and set his sights back on his computer screen.

Ziva just smiled in that mysterious way of hers, and sauntered back to her own corner. "Be nice, Tony. Maybe there's just no one to compare to Lindsa—"

"Please don't bring that up." McGee pleaded, instantly looking up at the name of his last "girl"-friend. A year ago, the youngest man of the NCIS crew went on a date ("One date! Just one!" The junior field agent would always remind them) with a transgender that went by the name of Lindsay. At least now Tony wasn't the only one who tongued a man.

Just on cue, Gibbs showed up, ever-present coffee cup in his hand, bee-lined to his desk to grab his gun and badge. "Murder in the park off Moffat. Let's move." Before their leader had even finished talking the rest of his team had pulled on their backpacks and pocketed their own badges. Within seconds, their cubicles had been abandoned, leaving only spinning chairs in their wake.

…

Everyone had changed into their NCIS crime apparel by the time they had reached the park. It was a male, late 40s, face down in the small pool of liquid (not blood Ducky confirmed) on the side of the trail. There were three bullet holes in his chest and multiple bruises across his face, and a rash around his wrists and ankles. "Sergeant Bill Haddar," McGee announced with the help of the victim's fingerprints.

"Dinozzo, Ziva. Check the surrounding area, see if you can find anything connecting to the murder." Gibbs instructed, not bothering to look and see if his team was following. They usually were.

But not this time.

As Gibbs bent down to get a closer look at the body, someone's cell phone rang. Annoyed, the man looked up from his new case and turned back to Ziva, who was fishing in her pockets for her phone. "Sorry, Gibbs," she apologized, not looking up from her search. She let the camera dangle from her neck as the phone continued to ring. Finally, when the Mossad agent found the source of the ringing, she glanced over the screen and paused. Her face was screwed into a confused expression, and she stood there, staring at the screen for one. Two rings. Three—

"Are you gonna answer it?" Gibbs asked, a little peeved at the continuous interruption.

This seemed to break Ziva from the trance. She accepted the call and held the phone to her ear. Instantly her tone changed. "Hi, Teemo. What's wrong?"

Instantly Tony, who had gone off in search of evidence, straightened and went over to the woman on the phone. _Teemo? _he mouthed at his wife.

She glanced up and nodded. "What dear? I'm sorry, I—Teemo. Slow down."

_"Mom? There's someone at the door. I—I don't know who it is. I didn't answer, but he's just standing there, banging on the door. He's yelling something in some language. I don't know what to do. I just—"_

"Don't go anywhere. Lock all the doors. We'll be there soon." Ziva paused. "Love you too." She hung up and looked over at Tony, something dark seeping into her pupils. "We have to go. _Now_."

His heart grew cold. "So I heard." The senior field agent looked over at Gibbs, who was waiting for an answer.

Before anyone could tell him what was going on, he just raised his eyebrows. "What're you looking at me for? Go save your kid."

Instantly the two agents took off down the trail, towards the parking lot where they had left the car.

...

True to their 12-year-old's word, Tony and Ziva arrived at their suburb house to find an unfamiliar black car in their driveway and a man in a gray suit at the door. Ziva put the car in park (Tony would later say that the only reason he let her in the driver's seat was because her reckless driving got them to the house faster) and went for her gun. Her husband reached out and put a firm hand on her wrist. She looked up, dark eyes flashing, holding her gaze with Tony, as if having an argument in silence. Finally, he groaned and released his hand.

Ziva, careful to keep the gun in front of her, dropped her NCIS cap on the floor and got out of the car. The faint sound of the freeway masking her soft footsteps, Ziva stepped closer towards the aging man at her door. Finally, when she was close enough to have a perfect shot at his head, she glanced over at Tony for the OK. He gave it to her with a grim look and a faint nod.

The woman turned back to the man on her porch and yelled, her voice clear, "Get away from the door and put your hands up. NOW."

Not bothering to question her instructions, the man turned to face her, his hands in the air. His suitcase fell with a thud onto the porch and stayed on its side. But unlike any other man Ziva had pointed her gun at, this one was smiling. She squinted at him in the bright sunlight; yes, he was definitely smiling. But why was he—oh. _Oh shit._

She lowered her barrel, yet another confused look etched upon her face. "Dad?"

...

"Teemo?" Tony called into his house. There was a rustling in the kitchen, and his 12-year-old son poked his head up over the pantry door. There was a half-eaten doughnut shoved into his mouth. Teemo grinned, obviously a little ruffled from the 'door-banger' and pushed his mother's hair from his eyes. It was puffy, curly. His eyes so like Tony's blinked, and he swallowed the doughnut.

"Did you get him?" His voice was still high. Tony remembered when Teemo was born, his pitched scream echoing through the hospital. His son's voice hadn't changed a bit. He grinned and walked over to the pantry.

"Yep. We got him. Teemo, meet grandpa," Tony strained the last part a little, but nonetheless he gestured to Ziva's dad walking through the door. Teemo's grandfather smiled and waved.

"Hello, grandchild of mine."

Ziva walked past her father, fuming incessantly, and went straight for her son. She wrapped him up in her arms and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Seriously mom?" Teemo muffled into her chest. Finally, she broke away, glad that no one had gotten to her son. He was one of the reasons she stayed in the US—the other would be Tony. But at the moment, she just content with no one—not even her father—getting to her baby. Sure, Eli was family, but that doesn't mean he was safe for her child. And that was just what Ziva wanted for him—safety. Something she couldn't exactly guarantee, what with both her and Tony's jobs and such.

But despite the pseudo-threat, Teemo was still there. He was still alive. Ziva grinned at her son, then at Tony. They seemed to nod at each other, agreeing without speaking. It was something that had fallen into place between them over the years of being partners, and then the last thirteen years being _partners_.

She turned back to her father and managed a smile of hospitality. He was looking around the quaint living room with pursed lips. "Well," he started. "This is…"

"Eli," Ziva cut in warningly.

"…nice." He finished, and looked over at his daughter. "I'm staying for a few days to get acquainted with the grandchild I have never seen." This made Ziva look away, embarrassed.

Tony was the first to break the silence. "Well this is good! This means that we don't have to worry about Teemo being lonely. Right, Ziva? Ziva?" he turned to look at his wife.

"Yes," she managed. "Now Teemo won't be lonely." But she wasn't worrying about Teemo's loneliness—she was worried what her father might do to Teemo while he was staying. She didn't want to come home to find gunshots in the ceiling, or walk in on an impromptu lesson in self-defense. She sighed. Ziva just didn't want her son to suffer a loveless, bloodthirsty childhood—the one she had to grow up in. But then again, that was easier than kicking her father out of the house and telling him to never come back.

That would stir up some serious shit.

* * *

Your thoughts on Teemo and his family? Anything. Anything at all.

Love you guys! ~~AgentAva


	2. Chapter 2

I. am so. embarrassed. I published this story on Monday (Self-Proclaimed One-Shots Day) in the hopes it had been a successful NCIS one-shot. And um. well, I was supposed to say that was a one-shot. Aaaaand I didn't.

So out of guilt I turned this into a three-shot. Enjoy~

* * *

"It is not like I do not love my father, I just do not think he had to scare Teemo half to death when he showed up!" Ziva growled and took a hefty swig from her strawberry jar of liquor.

It had been hours since Eli had arrived. The case had already been solved; after Tony and Ziva had left, McGee had found a woman rocking herself in the nearby bushes. She was covered in the same substance under the body (it turned out to be a poisonous chemical found in the lab where the woman worked). Now the killer was on 24/7 watch until they washed all the poison out of her system—inside and out. It seemed as if she wanted to follow the boyfriend she had accidentally killed. For once, Ziva didn't really give a flying kangaroo in hell; she had learned the term from her son.

Gibbs just nodded half-heartedly and put his cup down. "He's getting old, Ziva."

"Oh, and like the rest of us aren't?" she scoffed back. She clutched onto her forearm and felt the puckered scars from the bombing. If she cradled herself in her arms should would be able to feel the stripes all over her body; her battle scars. But she had more than just external scars.

It had been 16 years since Harper Dearing bombed NCIS. It had taken her three of those to realize just what Tony meant to her. It only took another year for Gibbs to accept what was going on. Ziva bit back a smile as she remembered the boss walking her down the aisle, Abby and McGee and Ducky watching proudly from the front row.

Her father hadn't shown up.

Gibbs's phone rang, and he answered it after two rings. "Yeah, DiNozzo?" he asked. Ziva's head shot up at the sound of Tony's name. "Yeah, she's here with me. You wanna talk to her?" After a moment, Gibbs held the receiver out to Ziva.

Gulping, she took the outdated flip phone and pressed it to her ear.

Tony immediately assaulted her ears with his volume. "What do you think you're doing, having a drink with Gibbs in his basement?" There was inaudible shouting in the background. Tony groaned and muffled his phone. Ziva couldn't help but smile as her partner yelled, "Calm yourself, Eli! I'm on the phone with _your _daughter right now!" and to Ziva, "Get home. Please. I am this close to pulling my gun on your father." She could hear him grit his teeth through the receiver.

"Now you know how I feel," she replied, half-amused, and hung up.

…

When Ziva walked up to the door she heard a lot of screaming and the clash of weapons. Her heartbeat quickened slightly and the ex-Mossad yanked the door open, preparing herself to find Tony and Eli brawling it out on the floor and Teemo rooting his father on from the couch.

Instead she found the three boys sitting very peacefully on the couch, two sipping beer and one water. Ziva observed from the threshold, the door still ajar behind her. The wind brushed against her back trying to get in.

They were watching _The Princess Bride_. Teemo was lying on his stomach in the middle of the room; Tony and her father were on opposite sides of the couch, careful not to have any physical interaction with each other. It was the scene where the farm boy where Buttercup was being sucked into a deep pit of quicksand; Ziva would know, her husband made her sit through the entire movie once.

Eli looked of at Tony and asked in a loud whisper, "Why doesn't he just leave her in the pit? She seems like a lot of dead weight to me."

"It's for love, Grandpa!" Tony groaned, still managing to put the emphasis on 'grandpa.' "He loves her so much that he won't let her die in a sand pit, even if she is just dead weight." He pressed the beer to his lip.

"I would've left her there to die," Teemo remarks, not peeling his eyes from the screen. It was his first time watching the classic (and in Ziva's opinion, slightly dry) movie, and obviously the 12-year-old was as excited as Tony. _Like father, like son_, Ziva thinks, and shuts the door loudly.

All three relatives look up, and within seconds the movie is paused, the remote poised in Tony's free hand. Eli is on his feet, arms outstretched for a hug. "Ziva!" he announces proudly and dives in for the embrace. She easily slips out of his grasp and heads straight for her son.

She stands over him, straining to put on a warm face with her father in the room. "Go get ready for bed, Tee."

The boy stands up, his unruly curls bouncing as he does so. He bows low towards his mother. "As you wish." He says in a dignified manner, and saunters in a way so like his father down the hall and out of sight.

Ziva can't help but laugh to herself as she sits down next to her husband "Does he know that means 'I love you'?"

"I think he was in the bathroom during that part," Tony mused and took another swig of beer. Ziva chuckled once more and removed her jacket.

Her father relaxed back into the couch as well. "I do not mean to pry, but it is such an odd name," he ruminated.

"Do you always begin conversations this way?" Tony muttered under his breath.

"No, not usually." Eli retorted Tony's comment without a second look. The agent frowned when no one recognized the quote and sat back with his arms crossed against his chest, like a young child might do. Eli turned his attention back to his daughter. "Teemo…where on Earth did you find that name? It is not Israeli."

"Well, I did not want a child named after a movie character—"

"—and if she didn't want that, then I didn't want an Israeli name." Tony jumped in again. They exchanged a glance and smiled, remembering the perfectly ridiculous fight they had on the topic of names when Ziva was five months pregnant; she had gone into such an emotional rage that she started shooting the door to their bedroom until Tony had to tackle her and confiscate her gun. In the end, they worked it out—they named the child after a very dear coworker that had passed the week of Teemo's birth (her initials had been T. Mo).

"Hmm," Eli responded, nodding his head.

"Goodnight," Teemo announced as he walked into the room. He hugged his father who ruffled his head affectionately, kissed his mother on the cheek, and looked at Eli.

His grandfather swallowed the liquor in his mouth. "Well?"

The young DiNozzo exchanged a glance with his mother. She widened his eyes at her son and nodded vaguely at her father. Teemo looked back at Eli uncomfortably and leaned over half an inch before saying quickly, "'Bye grandpa!" and took off down the hall.

"Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, then you haven't got anything!" Tony quoted after his son.

After hearing the door shut, the two NCIS agents returned their looks to Eli David. They exchanged another glance; Tony gave his wife a nod of approval. She looked back over at Eli and asked bluntly, "So why are you here?"

"To visit my grandson," came an answer too quick.

Ziva raised an eyebrow.

"We are two of the top NCIS agents, you know," Tony threw out nonchalantly, and set down his beer. He looked into Eli's eyes and held the look with a dark glint in his pupils. "We know how to make you talk."

"And I am the Director of a top Israeli agency," the man bit back. "I know all of your tricks." But after a moment of sucking at his teeth and looking over his options, Eli let out a long-drawn sigh. "I…I'm retiring." He stated flatly.

Tony flashed a grin and leaned over to clap Eli on the back. "Congratulations, Daddy!" he said through a sarcastic chuckle.

His wife, however, barely batted an eye. Eli shied away from his son-in-law's touch and looked into Ziva's eyes. "So?" she had to restrain herself from snarling.

Her father pulled a hand through his now thoroughly-white hair uncomfortably. "Ziva I, I…

"I want you to take my place as Director."

* * *

Bet you didn't see THAT coming. LOL. You probably did. ANYWAYS I'll get the final chapter of this fic up soon. OH. and for all of you who had concerns regarding the name, Teemo being an only child, and everything else I got wrong, I am actually very thankful for all of your helpful tidbits(:

Some might take that stuff the wrong way, but I **love** having my fics as canon as possible, so THANK YOU SO MUCH, my fellow guests who didn't sign in last chapter.

So, uh, hope this chapter explained my bemuddled thoughts about Teemo and his family, and hope to see you soon! :D

~~AgentAva


	3. Chapter 3

Part 1 of 2. This one's about the three boys relationship, and the last's about Ziva and Eli. Let's wrap this up! Enjoy the little hints at headcanons I threw in there(:

~~AgentAva

* * *

Sunshine filled into the kitchen in rays as Eli shuffled in, empty mug in hand. Trying not to wake up anyone, he began filing through the various wood cabinets, searching for the coffee beans.

"Top shelf of the second cabinet to the right," a high voice instructed. Eli, who had been bending down to rifle through the bottom cabinets, looked under his arm to see Teemo, his hair straight up and frizzy, leaning against the doorway. The young boy frowned at his grandfather, and crossed his arms across his chest. In return, the old man turned away so that the young one could not see the smile that spread across his face. Eli pushed the glasses further up his nose and began to reach for the coffee beans.

Even without looking over, the grandfather could tell that Teemo had moved from the entrance to sit down at one of the stools stationed at the island counter. After much groping around in the dark, Eli finally latched his hand onto his victim and pulled out the bag with triumph. "Ah," he said contently, and walked over to the coffee pot. With his back turned, he asked, "So, uh…are your parents up yet?"

"No," came Teemo's almost too-careless answer. "It is 7:34 Eastern time right now, and dad won't be getting out of bed until at least 8 o'clock. My mom doesn't get back from her run until exactly 7:46, so…" Eli could hear the 12-year-old quickly calculate in his mind. "We have exactly 11 minutes and 24 seconds until _your daughter_ walks through that door."

As he was listening, Eli had been preparing the coffee machine, and snapped the door shut. For a moment the man roamed his callused fingers around aimlessly, unable to pinpoint the power button's location.

Without warning, Teemo pushed the old man aside with a flick of his arm, and pressed down on the red button on the side. It blinked green in return, and the machine began to emit a low gurgle. The young boy swiveled to face his grandfather, an annoyed look on his face; Eli couldn't help but see Ziva scowling back at him. His grandson lifted a finger. "Sit." He commanded.

The old man shrugged to himself. Teemo was just a little boy. What could he possibly do that Eli couldn't handle? He shuffled over to Teemo's vacated seat and relaxed into the chair, removing his glasses as he did so. "So what do you want to know, Teemo?" Eli asked casually, cleaning his glasses with the edge of his shirt.

Teemo leaned forward against the island, making it so that the two were face-to-face. For a moment, the younger searched Eli's stolid face before squinting at him, just like his mother would when seeing something she did not like. "Who are you?"

"What?" Eli laughed, shaking off the question with a flick of his hand. "I'm your grandfather, of course!"

It took Teemo a few moments to calculate his next move. "No," he said slowly. "I heard you. You said you wanted my mother to be the next 'Director.' Who are you?" He demanded once more, his voice raising. The boy, realizing what he had done, glanced around to make sure he hadn't awoken his father, and returned to the one in front of him.

"You misunderstand," Eli started with a bittersweet smile. But even so, he couldn't help but feel a little let down. His own daughter had not told Teemo about his grandfather _at all_.

"Misunderstand my ass!" Teemo snarled much like Ziva would have done. He slammed a fist on the counter. "Both of my parents are highly-ranked NCIS agents who do this for a living _everyday_. I am their _son_, which means that I know how to tell what the truth is and what is not. I skipped _three_ grades; know how to shoot a rifle with one hand, as well as a handgun; I am last year's state champion for mixed martial arts! I know how to tell if someone is a liar by the way their _jugular_ moves, and Aunt Abby taught me how to kill a man four different ways without leaving a trace when I was 10. Do _not_ tell me that I do not understand. As far as I am concerned, I understand _perfectly_."

Eli let this sink in a little bit before nonchalantly asking, "Only four?"

The young one stopped fuming long enough to turn bright red. "She—she said she'd teach me the rest when I was older." He stammered.

He nodded noncommittally, and rose to watch his coffee, seeing as how the pot had started to drip. Teemo pointed a warning finger at him, "I'm not done yet! I have six more minutes, and I am going to use that time to pry the answers from you."

"How cute," Eli chuckled dauntingly. "How did you hear the bit about Ziva becoming Director, anyways?"

"I have my ways," Teemo replied stiffly.

"Let me guess," Eli sat back in his chair thoughtfully. "There's either a microphone in the living room, or you faked going to bed and stayed out in the hall."

A pause. "None of the above."

Eli couldn't help smiling once more. "Then you must have your mother's ears like a horse."

"You mean like an owl."

"Do owls even have ears?"

Teemo shrugged. "They have ear holes, if those count."

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence as Tony walked into the room, rubbing the back of his head. He headed straight for the coffee pot, mussing up his son's head as he passed. "Oh look, coffee."

As the NCIS agent sauntered over to watch the steaming liquid drip, Eli called after him casually, "I like this child. How come you do not have more Teemos?" Tony did not turn, but his father-in-law could see the strain in his jaw line.

"I, uh," Tony chuckled nervously, as if he wanted to steer clear of this conversation all together. In his reflection in the coffee pot, the about-to-retire Director could see the agent try to form an answer in his mind. He looked like he was about to quote a movie, by the way that a smile lit up his face, but as Tony turned, it fell. There was no use in having a façade for this kind of discussion. He just wished his only son wasn't there to hear it.

The younger(ish) man looked into Eli's glasses, noticed that Teemo was staring at him in an utterly confused and almost frightened manner, and knew that what he was about to say could not be undone. _I hope Ziva doesn't kill me._

Tony cleared his throat. "After Teemo was born…there had been this mission to go to a undisclosed location to kill the leader of the group that attacked the president, but there had been a firefight…" Tony trailed off, not really wanting to remember that day. But he had to, to explain himself. Despite the slight hatred he felt for Eli, the son-in-law thought he owed this to him. He gulped down, looked over at Teemo. As he spoke, his son's eyes filled with tears, and it made Tony's voice and heart break. "Teemo was just a few months old when we left. I'd been shot in the knee, McGee was bleeding out on the beach, trying to help Abby pinpoint our location to send a rescue chopper, Gibbs..." Tony coughed. Gibbs hadn't come. He was one of the main reasons why the team had gone off to kill the leader in the first place. "…Ziva had a clear shot from where she was. She stood to assassinate the leader, who was standing over us on the balcony of his secret lair and…" The agent took a deep breath as he heard the shot ricochet around his brain. "They shot simultaneously. Ziva killed the man. He had taken aim at her pelvis, and it hit home. He had done his research. He knew that we were married, that we wanted to have more children." Tony paused, and scoffed at the dead man's selfishness. "If he could not be satisfied, no one could."

Streaming tears cascaded down Teemo's face. Even Eli could feel heat rushing to his eyes. He removed his glasses to wipe them. The sound of the coffee pot going off almost echoed through the house.

Tony put on a bleak smile. "Looks like the coffee done."

* * *

Did you make it? Just to let you know, that BIG paragraph up there explains why Tony and Ziva did not have any more children after Teemo. So go back if you skipped it!

Your thoughts? Part 2 will be up in an instant(:

Oh, and what did you think of Teemo? He's quite the little Ziva/Tony, isn't he? I made him a lot like Ziva for a reason, guyss :D


	4. Chapter 4

As a quick side note, this is based off of Ziva's POV, so Eli's obvious discontent in not having any more grandchildren and his opinion on it will not be mentioned. Without really having to be told, Eli knew that he could not disclose the information he knew about Ziva's inability to have children, for she would probably kill him and bring him back to life, just to find his nose and thumbs missing. lololol

Enjoy part 2!

* * *

It was 8:02 when Ziva got back to the house from her run. As she opened the door tiredly, she called out, "I'm home!"

When there was no response, Ziva removed her earbuds and glanced around quickly. No sign of a forced entry, or the remnants of a fight.

"They went out." A voice spoke aloud, confirming the agent's assumptions. Unfortunately, it was not from the person she wanted neither confirmation nor a conversation with.

She turned to face the couch that held her father, and unzipped her first layer of warmth without looking at him. Ziva tossed the puffy lime-green vest onto the couch, an explanation she knew she could use as an excuse not to sit there.

"Well?" Eli asked. Finally, his daughter glanced up at him briefly, an angry gleam in her eye. He smiled grimly at her, pushed the vest away with the back of his hand and patted the leather. "Come; sit."

Ziva complied, but she wasn't happy about it. As she sat, Eli noted the gun bulging in her left jacket pocket, the hand that remained jammed in beside it. He would have to choose his words carefully. "So have you—"

"Yes." The NCIS agent smoothed her fly-aways back with a palm.

"And…?"

Ziva merely looked at him, before returning her gaze to the floor. "What do you think?" she whispered at it. It was not a threatening comment, but one laced with emotions Eli could barely comprehend. The tone of her voice…he recognized it as the same one that she used when she had first learned that Talia died.

"Ah." Eli leaned back, disappointment sinking in with him. "So that is a no?"

His daughter leaned back with him. "You don't come to my wedding, you respond to my email regarding Teemo's birth with one word: _congratulations_. You haven't contacted me at all since I resigned…" she trailed off to the distant memory before continuing, "Why would I do this for you, Eli? Follow in your footsteps?" Ziva finally turned to face him, a new sort of shine in her eyes. "Haven't I made it obvious enough that I am not you, _Abba_?"

Silence filled the house.

"I know," Eli coughed to raise his voice slightly. "I know that you are not me. I know that it is a big thing to ask of you, to come back to Mossad after…well, after all this time.

"But, my dear, despite what you might think, I still came to _you_ first. You are my daughter…the only one I have left. With both Ari and Tali gone, and your mother…" Eli lifted his glasses off the bridge of his nose with shaking hands. His slow breathing was equally uneven. Ziva watched his features carefully, not wanting to be mistaken. Was her father actually…apologizing? Confessing? This was not the Eli David that Ziva knew. This was a broken man, an exposed man, now just a shell of his former self.

This was new.

"_Abba_," Ziva coaxed his attention to her with a soft voice. He lifted his chin to look her in the eye, making her laugh to herself and reach forward to take his callused hand. "Being the Director is a great honor, but I have already survived through so many at NCIS. If I ever became one myself...well, I don't want to know how my family would have to go on if I were ever in Director Vance's position…or worse. I…" Ziva gulped down hard, and attempted to clear her muddled mind before speaking slowly, trying to banish any thoughts of the loss of the NCIS Director of almost 10 years before he, too, had been killed. "I don't want to put Teemo or Tony in the position you put _Mama_ and Talia and me in. I don't want my child to live through what I had to."

Eli smiled shyly, ashamedly. "You were always so strong, Ziva." He murmured. "I only wish I could be as strong as you. To put…to put love before power."

And she knew what her father meant. He had put power before love, in place of love, for he did not know how to love, himself. Eli David knew how to lead, how to command. He did not know how to be a father, but he did know how to protect.

In some ways, Eli was better than Ziva; he had seen much more from behind those glasses. But she had seen a lot, too, and it had made her strong. It made her learn what love was, and what it could be. She knew so much more than her father did, and it made her stand tall.

Ziva knew all of this already, but hearing it come from another person, especially her father, set it in stone. _She was strong._

"Power is not love," the agent mused to herself.

"No," Eli agreed. "It is not. I only wish I could have learned that years ago." He looked his daughter, pride evident in his gaze. "But I am glad that you have."

Ziva broke eye contact to stare off somewhere else. "So am I."

Once again, silence, like an old friend, returned to share this moment of simplicity and the deep complex of family with the father and daughter. It continued to stay in the house until Tony and Teemo returned, and the door would stay open for the welcome guest for years after. And when it did revisit, Ziva would sit and cherish it, feel the embrace of the memories the silence carried with it, and grin to herself, for she knew she had made the right choice. She was right. Power was not love.

This—everything and everyone around her—was love.

* * *

Personally? I think that was a crap ending. Um did you like my headcanons? About my GASP mention of Vance's death sometime during those 16 years? (the rest were really in part 1)

ANYWAYS hope you enjoyed, I did. And if you read this all the do way through, creds to you! The Agent loves each and every one of her readers; never forget that you awesome dumplings you C:

AND if I got any one of my facts wrong, tell me, don't tell me, whatever. It's your life.

So now that the A/N is over…

Your thoughts my lovelies?


End file.
